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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755137">Ace-High</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band007/pseuds/Band007'>Band007</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notches Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Laramie (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jess has hard time with self-control</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:48:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band007/pseuds/Band007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Notches". It's a month since Hatch died. Rocked by the news that the real Hatch isn't dead like they thought he was, Mort, Slim and Jess work tirelessly to find out who he really was and what was he doing in Laramie in the first place. Last of all, what's Scott Matthews hiding and how far is he willing to go to protect his secrets?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Notches Series [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He hit the ground hard, and moaned. After three months, three months, he was so close! Dark spots danced in his vision and he coughed, hard. Attempting to draw air into his starved lungs, he gritted his teeth. He needed air!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna kill you Harper!” The voice was getting closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic struck as he stared at the pistol sitting in the dirt a couple feet away. It wasn’t very hard to get to, but it was far enough for his injuries to make a big difference. They’d sooner put a bullet in his back before he made half the distance, but he had to try. It was better than waiting to die. Pressing his fingers into the thick sand, he pulled himself forward. White hot pain shot through his broken leg as he forced it to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a little further.” He whispered softly, stretching his hand out to grasp his lifeline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found you.” The evil tone sent shivers down his spine. Footsteps crunched beside his ear. A shadow fell across him as a hammer was pulled back for the last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A last-ditch effort to find a way to live, he forced his broken leg to push him the remaining distance to the gun. A broken scream burst from his throat the same instant his fingertips brushed the wooden stock. Inching it closer, he let out his final breath, stirring up a tiny cloud of dust in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling on his back, he jerked the hammer back and pointed to the man standing above him. Then he fired.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Two months earlier...</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim Sherman watched dully as the remaining embers in the fire pit burnt down. His thoughts whirled with possibilities of why someone would send a man to kill Jess using another man’s name. Who was behind it all? Jess had said the man had mentioned a ‘friend’ in Yuma, but nothing more. Gunfighters made a name for themselves by how many men they killed. Why would a man who was good enough to pass for a well known gunfighter, go by a different name altogether? What was the point?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worryin’ ‘bout it don’t change it.” Jess’ voice filtered up through the blanket he’d slung over himself. Momentarily, Slim was taken back, his partner had been so still he was sure he’d been sound asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not worryin’.” Slim argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya are too.” Both men fell silent, letting the hiss of burning wood fill the silence. “Did Scott tell ya anything yesterday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim shook his head and poked the dying embers with a stick. “No. The minute he saw me coming he practically shoved me out the door. I don’t understand that man. First, he lies to Mort about who ‘Hatch’ was. Then, he dodges every question we throw at him, bent on making it as hard as possible for us. Last, he shoots ‘Hatch’ in the back and tells you he was his brother.” Frustrated, he cast the stick into the fire and watched it burn. “I don’t know what Scott is up to, but it gives me a bad feeling.The only thing I can figure is Scott’s somehow involved...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim? You suppose we’ll find something in Yuma?” Jess sat up in his blankets waiting for Slim’s answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to. We spent three days in Rimrock county looking under every rock and crevice. There wasn’t even a scrap to be found there, if we’re lucky we’ll find more in Yuma. Hatch Matthews sure does a good job covering his tracks and can be a real pain in the neck. Kinda like someone else I know.” Slim smiled playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wish!” Jess flicked a rock at Slim which he easily caught. Slim’s laughter carried through the still night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning back in his blankets, Jess stared up at the stars. Years of sleeping out under that stars, they’d become his old friends. Granted, he couldn’t even name one, but they were always there, waiting for him after a long day's ride. After years of sleeping inside the ranch house, he’d forgotten what it felt like to stare up at the stars, exposed to the world around him. Strangely, they still felt like...home. His life had changed so quickly following his job at the Sherman Ranch. In one day he’d gone from his pursuit of revenge to having a family set in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling over in his blankets, Jess closed his eyes. Hopefully there’d be answers in Yuma tomorrow.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It was mid-morning when Jess and Slim rode into Yuma. Yuma wasn’t a large town, in fact it looked pretty run down. Like the people of Yuma found it hard to keep up with the weather beating against their homes. Or were just too lazy to care. The entire town gave off the feeling of being run down and tired. Townspeople stared at the pair as they made their way across  the street. Jess and Slim’s skin prickled at the unwanted attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing open the bat wing doors, the pair surveyed their surroundings. The Saloon was relatively empty and the bartender behind the bar propped his head up with his hands sleepily. The man looked like he was about to fall down at any moment. Scattered at various tables inside the room, three Saloon girls fiddled with the half-empty glasses on the table in front of them. The batwing doors squealed, causing the heavy-eyed bartender to pull himself to attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help you two?” At the bartender question, Jess and Slim stepped up to the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name’s Slim Sherman and this is my partner Jess Harper.” Slim studied the man behind the bar. The bartender was dressed well in a fancy suit. More than likely the suit was meant to draw attention and awe, but on the sleepy man it did the opposite. The cuffs of the suit coat were well worn and dirty, needing laundering and a few good stitches with a needle. Despite the outward appearances, Carl seemed like a happy sort of fellow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you two. I’m Carl Burbaughm.” The sleepy bartender reached for the bottle of liquor and two shot glasses. “Say, we don’t get many strangers through here this time of day. What are you two doing in Yuma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim made a negative gesture with his hands, stopping the man from pouring them drinks. It was still early in the day and they had a lot of ground to cover before evening if they had any chance of getting the information they came for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re looking for information on a man by the name of Hatch. We were told he might have been through here some time ago. You wouldn’t happen to know something that could point us in the right direction, a friend perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carl visibly stiffened and the girls at the tables behind them shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I don’t know who you two are, but it might be best if you both just move along.” Slim pulled back, uncertain of the sudden change in the man. “I don’t mean to be rude, but either buy a drink or leave. I don’t want any trouble around here, I’ve got enough trouble as it is.” The man’s eyes shifted to the batwing doors nervously as if he expected their conversation to be overheard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Slim shared a leery glance. It didn’t take a blind man to see this man was scared of someone or something, possibly both. The change had been instantaneous when Slim had mentioned the name Hatch. Who and what had made the man clam up so fast? Something was going on here…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess fished into his vest pocket and dropped the silver on the counter. “Two glasses and the bottle.” He said as he pointed at the liquor in the ruffled bartenders hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim shot Jess a puzzled glance. What was Jess doing? Didn’t he know getting drunk might be the worst thing they could do at a time like this. Until they knew what was going on with Carl Burnbaughm and the entire town, they could just be taken out in the back alley and shot for all they knew. Slim trusted Jess, but this time he didn’t like the idea of figuratively putting his back against the wall for Jess to have a drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What my partner means-” Slim started to protest only for Jess to cut him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-We’d like that bottle now.” Jess’ deep voice growled causing Carl to shake in his boots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nervous bartender scooted the demanded drinks to their side of the bar and scurried off without another word. Cockily, Slim watched his partner snatch the cups and whiskey off the sticky counter and saunter over to a table situated between two saloon girls. Inside, Slim’s blood boiled. Never in his life had his partner spoken so harshly to someone, at least while Slim was around. Shuffling after his partner, Slim forced himself to take several steadying breaths before he gave into the desire to lay his cocky partner out flat on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down Slim, before you draw any more attention to us.” Jess whispered conspiritably to him, jerking his thumb to the empty chair to the left of the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally realization dawned. Jess wasn’t doing that for some sick satisfaction he was building a façade. His quiet partner had picked up on something he’d missed. Slim sat down in the chair and stretched out his long legs, resting them on the seat of the chair to his left, playing along with Jess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess deftly poured them both a drink and leaned back in his chair. Slim noticed the man had chosen a table where they could easily watch the front doors, and if they needed to, make a quick escape out the back of the Saloon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you mentioned Hatch’s name, the girl at that table,” Jess tipped his head to the right “-looked up and then suddenly became really interested in the floor. If I had anything to say about it, I’d bet she knows even more than our poor bartender.” Slim killed his urge to look at the saloon girl Jess and pointed out by watching the nervous bartender scrub the counter furiously. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“This town is scared stiff. If we want information we need to be careful about who we trust. And to do that we have to keep as many people as possible in the dark about who we are and what we’re doing here. I figure playing the part of two trigger happy gun slicks will do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim blew out his cheeks, “Just great. This day keeps getting better and better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pssst.” A high feminine voice to their right drew their attention. “If you two have any good sense you’d walk back out that door the first chance you get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim continued to watch Carl scrub the bar hard enough to peel the finish off and whispered back. “Why should we leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you should leave while you still can.” The girl hissed. “Look I’m trying to do you a favor Mister. So please, walk out that door before you it’s too late! The last thing we need is people poking around where they don’t belong. Everyone here knows better than to mess with Hatch, not unless we wanna to get shot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about Hatch?” Jess asked, entering the conversation. The Saloon girl fell silent. “Look, we can help you, but you have to help us first. Do you and this town want to live in fear for the rest of your lives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what you’re talking about Mister. Why don’t you just leave now!? I don’t even know why I risked talking to you.” The girl stood and brushed past them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess caught her arm, pulling her back to face him. She was wearing a powder blue dress with matching heels. Dark hair was swept up onto the top of her head, accentuating her slender neck. She was beautiful, Jess realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly she twisted and pulled her arm, trying to break free from Jess grasp. “Let go of me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing he only had a split second chance, Jess leaned forward in his chair holding her arm firmly. “What do you know about Hatch?” The pretty girl chewed her bottom lip and stopped struggling, but didn’t answer. “Listen, we can help you, all you have to do is tell us what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know I can trust you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re all in the same boat together. How do we know you aren’t setting us up for something?” Slim reasoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Three men walked through the batwing doors. Unfriendly eyes settled on Jess and Slim making the girl go pale. Angrily, the saloon girl snatched her arm out of Jess’ grasp and stepped away and whispered, “Meet me in the back alley behind the General Store, midnight. Make sure you aren’t followed. Whatever you do, don’t trust anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim and Jess didn’t have a chance to ask any more questions before they were left alone at the table.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was several minutes before midnight when Slim and Jess snuck out of the Hotel. Not knowing if they were being watched, they’d climbed out their Hotel room window using the sheets off their beds. It wasn’t the most graceful way to exit a building, but it kept them under the radar. Once they reached the bottom, the pair carefully worked to the General Store without being seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder what this town’s so scared of.” Jess broke the silence by his whispered comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can’t be good that’s for sure. Whatever’s going on sure has the entire town stirred up. The Hotel clerk just about had a heart attack when I dropped our bags at the front desk.” Slim stepped into the nearest shadow and scanned the area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The back alley of the General Store wasn’t all that interesting. A few old crates and a water barrel was the only thing in sight. Jess carefully poked around the crates to make sure no one was hiding before shrugging his shoulders to his partner. They were all alone in the alley. An uneasy feeling crept through Slim. They had arrived exactly on time like the Saloon girl had told them to. So where was she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warily, Slim scanned the darkness looking for a hint something was off. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The pitch black dark was playing tricks on his nerves, causing his breath to catch at the slightest sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft foot falls echoed from behind him and he whirled towards the source, hand drifting to the gun at his side. Peering into the darkness he caught the tell tale signs of a plain brown dress. Slim and Jess relaxed slightly at the familiar face that approached them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never did catch your name, ma’am.” Jess whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Saloon girl took a deep breath before she answered. “People around here call me Ruby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby turned, scanning the area surrounding them as if she expected someone to suddenly appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s safe, we already made sure of that.” Slim said, trying to get Ruby to settle down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Sherman, nowhere is safe in this town.” Ruby nervously twisted her hands in front of her and in the darkness they could see she was shaking. Stepping back, she started to retreat from them. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I can’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, Slim caught her arm stopping her from fleeing. “Ruby, there must be something that you wanted to tell us. Please! Tell us what’s going on. I promise that the faster you tell us, the faster you can leave without anyone knowing any different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minutely, Ruby bobbed her head. “First, you’re probably wondering why I talked to you. You two seem like honest people and there hasn’t been a single honest person in Yuma since Ronny Hastings died several months ago. That man by the name of Hatch you mentioned, he was here in town for almost a week before Ronny was shot and then after his death Hatch disappeared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why was Mr. Hastings killed?” Slim questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you ask around everyone has their own opinion. Some say it was jealousy because Ronny had hundreds of cattle crossing the range, others claim it was all about who controlled the Cattlemen's Association. You see, Hastings has three sons. The Sheriff figured whoever had Ronny killed is someone right here in Yuma, he just never had the evidence to back up his claims. Before he died, Hastings had five cattle to everyone one on the range. Now that he’s dead, his three sons inherited everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did the Sheriff organize a posse to track the killer?” Jess asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby turned to look at Jess. “He did. A witness swore he shot the man who killed Ronny. The Sheriff followed the tracks and found they belonged to Dewitt Calkins. Dewitt was a bully and loud mouth, but no one thought he’d be capable of murder. Either way, Dewitt was hung for Hastings murder, without a trial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim looped his thumb through his gun belt and shifted his stance. “What does any of this have to do with Hatch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” Ruby nervously glanced around and shifted, ready to bolt. “Because Dewitt was the person who paid Hatch to come to Yuma. I got the feeling Dewitt was looking to use Hatch to take Ronny out of the picture so he could take over his ranch. Dewitt wanted Ronny dead, but he didn’t have the courage to kill him himself. That’s why he hired Hatch in the first place.” Ruby swallowed hard and stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Dewitt never killed Ronny. I think Hatch framed Dewitt, but I don’t know why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever catch the real name of Hatch?” Slim asked, watching the woman closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean you two know Hatch wasn’t his real name?” Ruby looked shocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Slim nodded. Their minds mulled over Ruby’s question. If Ruby had walked around the truth of Hatch’s identity what else could she be hiding from them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, all I know is Hatch wasn’t his real name. Listen now that you know…” Ruby trialed off for a moment. “Hatch isn’t a name. It’s more like a title. I think who hired ‘Hatch’ to frame Ronny, hires dozens of young gunmen to carry the title of Hatch. Then, he sends them all across Wyoming to double cross and kill who he wants to die. I don’t understand...How did you two come to find out about Hatch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was. The question they had tried to avoid. If what Ruby said was true, then there was nothing stopping the man behind the entire mess from sending more ‘Hatches’ after them to finish what he’d started. Jess and Slim shared a glance. Should they lay their cards on the table? The unspoken conversation between them ended and they both nodded in agreement. It was time to tell Ruby what they were doing in Yuma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over a month ago that same man who came through Yuma, came to Laramie looking for my partner. After he died, we found out Hatch wasn’t his real name. We came to Yuma hoping to find more information.” Ruby nodded and looked around at Slim’s words. “Ruby, what’s going on here in Yuma? Why are you so scared that someone will find out what you talked to us about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place isn’t what it used to be. After Ronny died, the ranchers in Yuma have been at each other's throats. They’ve been fighting over grazing rights, but one rancher...he’s been using any means necessary to keep control over the range. Three people have already been killed and everybody’s been worried about who’s next.” Ruby furrowed her brow in realization. “That’s strange…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s strange?” Jess questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never thought of it before…” Ruby glanced up at the two men. “No one knows why Ronny was killed because Dewitt never got anything out of his death. Not to mention Dewitt’s white horse was missing when the posse caught up to him. Maybe the person who wanted Dewitt framed also wanted Ronny out of the picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess began to see what Ruby was hinting. “You mean like a twisted two for one deal? Hire Hatch to kill Ronny for Dewitt and when it was all over-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kill Dewitt for what?” Slim questioned. He still didn’t understand what Jess and Ruby were getting at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ruby did someone take over Dewitt’s land after he was hanged?” Jess asked Ruby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Elbridge Kerwin wasted no time scooping up Dewitt’s land when the court put it up for sale. Kerwin ironically is one of the ranchers fighting the hardest for a piece of the Hasting’s land.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it!” Jess exclaimed. “I think Hatch didn't work for Dewitt as he was Kerwin. Think of it this way. If you were a greedy rancher looking to add to your lands, and knew Dewitt was going to do something reckless, you’d ride on that recklessness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Slim understood what Jess was trying to say. “You mean Kerwin paid Hatch to kill Dewitt just so he could add to his lands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby joined in. “It makes perfect sense. By framing Dewitt, Kerwin added to his lands without anyone giving it a second thought. Not only that, then Kerwin can own enough land to fight all the other ranchers for a piece of the Hastings ranch. By letting Dewitt kill Ronny, Kerwin killed two birds with one stone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Slim glanced at each other. “So much for this all being over easily.” Jess growled. “Well partner, we need to get back to Laramie as soon as we can. If there are more gunmen out to get us, I don’t like the thought of Mike and Daisy being alone at the ranch unprotected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s another reason why you need to return home.” Ruby mentioned. She waited until both men had looked at her before she continued. “Another gunfighter calling himself Hatch just left for Laramie yesterday morning.” If that wasn’t enough of a shock, Ruby wasn’t finished. “And he was riding a white horse with Dewitt’s brand.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mort Cory paced the boardwalk, craning his neck down the dirt road waiting for Jess and Slim to return. His friends had sent a telegram before leaving Yuma that they had important information to tell him that couldn’t wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spinning on his heel he started towards his office when a pair of familiar horses rode through town headed for the Sheriff’s Office. Wanting to catch them before they reached the other side of the street, Mort hasted his steps to intercept them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim! Jess!” Mort called drawing their attention. The two ranchers pulled up at the hitching post and waited for Mort to cross the street. When he reached them, he gestured to the wooden door. “Let’s get inside away from prying eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing the door open, Mort waited for his eyes to adjust prior to addressing his friends. The Sheriff dropped his hat on the plain wooden desk and sat down in his favorite chair as Jess pulled the door closed behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you find in Yuma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim sat down in a chair facing the desk and stretched out his long legs. The ride from Yuma had left him tired, dirty and cantankerous, but he felt better after finding more information behind what was going on as of late. Jess remained standing and gazed out the window carefully watching strangers step out of the stagecoach. Slim knew Jess had to be as tired as he was, so his solemn partner had to be gnawing on something. He made a mental note to ask Jess about it later before answering Mort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot, surprisingly.” Mort’s eyebrow rose but he didn’t speak waiting for Slim to continue. “We talked to a saloon girl. She called herself Ruby and she had quite the information to tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she give you a last name?” Mort shuffled papers around on his desk and inwardly groaned. If he didn’t die because some outlaw put a bullet in his hide, all the paperwork he had to do certainly would kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” Slim took an abrupt breath and continued. “Mort do you know anything about a Elbridge Kerwin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kerwin...Kerwin.” The name was strangely familiar. The Sheriff stood and opened a file cabinet placed behind his desk. Pulling open a drawer, he rifled through the abundance of stray papers. “The name sounds familiar I’ll tell you that. Should I know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim began to answer when Jess cut him off. “When we rode into Yuma that town acted like they were sitting on a lit powder keg. It isn’t very often when you see an entire town scared of their own shadows. Ruby told us all the ranchers are in the middle of a range war over a piece of the Hastings Ranch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jess stopped talking, Mort glanced over his shoulder wondering why he’d stopped. Both Jess and Slim were glued to the window, watching something or someone with great interest. Curious, Mort abandoned his haphazard files and drifted to the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three eyes tracked a man on a white horse riding down the street. Mort’s eyes narrowed as the pale horse slowed in the street outside the General Store. However, instead of stopping the pale horse continued further down before coming to a halt at the Livery Stable. Mort blinked hard, wondering if he was seeing things. That man almost looked like another...Hatch. Turning from the window Mort looked to his right at his two friends. Both continued to study the man with the pale horse even after he’d disappeared into the Livery. If Mort didn’t know better it was almost like they were expecting the stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Mort questioned, forgetting the stranger to question his friends. “Boy’s if I didn’t know better I’d think…” The Sheriff broke off unsure of how to finish that sentence without wearing a new shiner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right Sheriff.” Slim’s admission nearly knocked Mort off his feet. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right Sheriff. We are expecting that man.” Jess finished Slim’s sentence calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort’s eyes widened and he crooked his finger to the Livery Stable. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me-” Jess and Slim looked at him calm and collected.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calm and collected! There’s a hired gunman who just rode into town and here these two are as calm as a coon hound basking in the sun! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mort thought. Sitting down in his favorite chair, Mort rubbed his hands down the smooth armrests and fought the urge to put his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Mort stated flatly. “Spill it all out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Slim exchanged their well known look at one another and both took a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ruby told us there was a man who went by the name of Hatch in Yuma about a week before coming to Laramie. Hatch stayed in Yuma for almost a full week before he left. Once Hatch did leave-” Mort finished Slim’s thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim nodded and continued. “That’s right. Hatch was hired by Dewitt Calkins. Word is, Dewitt hired Hatch to kill another rancher by the name of Ronny Hastings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this Hastings owned the land you said all the ranchers are fighting over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. From what we can tell, Hatch killed Hastings for Dewitt like he was supposed to. Once Hastings was dead, Hatch led the posse to Dewitt, framing him for the old man’s murder. We think Hatch double crossed Dewitt for Kerwin. The way we see it, if Kerwin let Dewitt take care of the old man then Kerwin was in the clear to not only pick up some of the old man’s property, but Dewitt’s land as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort rubbed his hand across his chin and waited for Slim to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Jess that spoke this time, not Slim. “Not only that, Ruby told us Hatch isn’t a name, it’s a title. Someone hires young gunmen to use the name Hatch and then carry out their employers vendetta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean there’s someone who’s built an army of gunmen to carry out his own whims?” Mort asked as his mind raced. This was getting bigger and bigger…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess gave a grim smile as Slim joined in. “Yeah, and however is hiring these men, sent another ‘Hatch’ here to Laramie. And I’m willing to bet the white horse we just saw has Dewitt Calkins’ brand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, his rider checks into the Hotel by the name of Hatch.” Jess blew out his cheeks and continued. “Our last Hatch was young, inexperienced. Unlike this one.” Jess pointed to the window. “He’s good you can tell by the way he holds himself. If I push him he won’t break like the other one did. It makes him more dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort pushed to his feet and stared dully out the window. His hand rubbed his chest in a circular motion. Jess’ words rolled over him. Jess wouldn’t admit it, but the young man was scared. He knew Jess enough to catch the signs and the unspoken hint Jess had dropped. Jess wasn’t sure if he could face this new Hatch and walk away from it, yet the young man would still do it even if he got himself killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mort? What do you think we should do?” Turning from the window he saw Jess and Slim were now standing behind him, hats in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only thing we can do.” Mort’s voice dropped as he wrestled with himself inwardly. He couldn’t live with himself if his next words got his friends killed. Yet, deep down he knew he needed their help badly. He steadied himself and then continued. “Slim. You need to return to the ranch. Mike and Daisy need someone there to protect them. Jess, I know I have no right to ask this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess bowed his head and nodded, a thread of sorrow reflected in his eyes. “We have to stop whoever’s behind this, no matter the cost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess.” Slim breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess sadly looked into his partner’s eyes. He was taking a big risk, most likely the biggest in his life, but he had to. He had to risk it, so his family remained safe and happy to live another day. He bowed his head in a rare form of shame. It wasn’t right to Daisy, Mike and Slim to put his life on the line this way, knowing if he died it would do nothing short of killing his partner. He just hoped they’d understand...one way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t Slim. I know what you’re going to say.” He placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder. “I have to stop this, for everyone. This has to end.” Jess turned back to see Mort was holding out a deputy’s badge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashing back, Jess remembered when Doc had held Mort’s badge out to him like Mort was doing now. Hiding the tremor in his hand, he took the badge and looked at it. Smooth, rounded metal fit into his hand, whispering across his black leather gloves. It was a lot to ask, a man like him to pin on a badge. But he needed to do it. No! He had to do it. Do it once so he’d wouldn’t have to again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small voice deep inside him laughed at the thought of never putting on a badge again. Mort always pinned him down with it one way or another, forcing him to pin it on everytime he left town or needed help. He’d worn it proudly, but he didn’t feel like he was worthy to wear it now. Not after what happened with Hatch two months ago. How could Mort trust him to wear the badge and uphold the law when he himself couldn’t trust himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against his better judgement, his left hand pushed the needle down through his shirt. He’d wear the badge, because he had to, but as soon as this mess was all over it was going back on Mort’s desk as soon as the last shot was fired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess. Head back to the ranch tonight and come back in the morning bright and early. Then we can come up with a plan to stop this once and for all.” Jess bobbed his head, fighting down his own insecurities, and pulled back on the door. Mort called after him. “And Jess! Strap on your old gun. It’s time we stopped letting them have all the fun and finish them once and for all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Slim filed out, leaving Mort alone in the cold office. The lawman took a deep breath and let it out slowly. On the street Jess and Slim mounted their horses and cantered out of town for the ranch. Completely alone, Mort ran a weary hand over his face and fingered his own tied-down revolver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gut churned at the thought of what he’d just done. When Jess came to Laramie he’d worked hard to prove he’d put the gun away. Now here Mort was asking Jess to put it on again. No matter how you looked at it, it didn’t seem right. He was asking Jess to put his life on the line for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort pulled away from the window and scanned his office. The only reason why Jess had remained somewhat safe was because no one knew where he was. Gunslingers were notorious for settling disputes that were years old. Then there was always the group of gunmen out looking to make a name for themselves. Jess was good with a gun, but by a gunfighter's standards he was slipping. Putting away the gun like he had was dangerous for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort shook his head. Jess knew he might die by putting the gun away like Slim had asked him to but he’d still done it. Now, the man was putting on the gun once again for Mort’s sake. There was a good possibility a fight with the new gunmen could put Jess back on the map, back under the criticism of other gunfighters. Mort wasn’t a gunfighter by no means, but if he was...he couldn’t imagine what must be going through Jess’ head right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wandering over his file cabinet, the Sheriff flipped through the pile of papers again. He needed to know more about Elbridge Kerwin before morning. Then, he’d know where to start so he could put this madness to an end. Mort sighed and pulled out a fist full of papers to study. Hopefully he was doing the right thing…</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dust billowed at the tip of his boot. Miniscule specks of dust twirled upwards, gently coating the hem of his pant leg. The fine dirt settled only to be kicked upwards with the next footstep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy would be mad as a wet hen about him tracking dirt across her newly mopped floors. However at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his partner was sitting in the house meticulously cleaning his gun. Never mind the gun hadn’t been used in over three years. Never mind Jess cleaned it more often than he cleaned himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could Jess do it? How could he calmly pin on the badge Mort handed him without so much as a complaint? Slim strode to the next fence post and pulled a nail from his mouth. Tapping the nail into the soft board Slim consciously studied the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unfair to make Jess have to make this decision. In his mind he saw his partner’s black glove coming forward to take the hated piece of tin that could cost his partner his life. That image was always, always followed by the hair trigger gun being cleaned by Jess’ hands inside the house. Why?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viciously, Slim drew back his hand and pounded the nail into place using more force than necessary. A deep dent appeared to the side of his freshly pounded nail, grinning at him proving his anger had gotten the best of him. He was being foolish and he knew it. Jess was a grown man and had a right to do what he pleased. Yet, why did the sight of that deputy's badge on his partner's blue shirt make his gut twist in painful knots?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim chuckled mirthlessly, Jess was rubbing off on him. He was taking his anger for what his partner had to do out on a five inch piece of iron. The callous smile on his face faded. He was taking his anger out on the nails in his mouth because it was all that was stopping him from running inside the house and begging Jess to take the badge back to Mort in the morning. That thin sliver of iron was keeping him from yelling at Jess hoping he’d change his mind. If that didn’t work, Slim would be tempted to knock some sense into his friend the hard way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffing out his cheeks, Slim let the hammer fall out of his fingers not bothering to pick it up. The ever present dirt coated the hammer. Slim spit out the nails into his hand and gazed at the front door of the house. One part of him wanted to go inside and confront his friend, the other? The other feared walking up to that table where his partner sat cleaning his shining colt. If Jess got killed…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim made a guttural sound in the base of his throat as clear rain splattered across his cheeks. He told himself they were rain drops even when the pounding sun at his back proved him otherwise. If Jess got killed Slim wanted to see only the image of his partner's crooked grin. He wanted to see how he scrunched his nose when he was flustered and the deep throated laugh that brought a smile to anyone’s face when they heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stand the last image of his partner being the cold and lifeless look in his eyes when he withdrew from the world. Like Jess was doing now. Slim couldn't go on if all he saw when he closed his eyes was the dark gunfighter side of his best friend. The dark side of Jess that sometimes scared Slim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sniffing, Slim wiped his gloved hand over his cheeks and brushed away the liquid splayed across his skin. A quick toss put the nails back in their bin before he aimed for the front door of the ranch house. He needed to talk to Jess before he left early tomorrow. It was now or never.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The soft cloth in his hand rustled over his gun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Click.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jess spun the cylinder again and pulled the trigger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Click.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A small frown crossed his face at the delay. The trigger was taking too long to react. Firmly, he pressed down on the barrel, splitting the gun in half. In one quick movement he popped the cylinder out and went to work cleaning the lock. Sweeping the oil filled rag inside the open chamber he cleaned it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And cleaned it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And cleaned it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that gun’s cleaner than you.” Slim’s harsh voice came from behind him making him jump in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess clenched his right hand knowing he could have been killed if anyone had walked through that door like Slim just had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you doing boy?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> A voice from his past snarled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One more slip up like that will kill you. I didn’t teach you these tricks for you to get yourself killed! Pull it together and pay attention! You’re not enough, you’re never enough! What was I thinking teaching a wet behind the ears kid like you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head Jess pushed away the voice. His heart raced in his chest and he tamped down a gasp. Red had saved his life teaching him like he did, but his punishments had been just as strict. Red’s words resonated in his head like a clap of thunder. Red was right, he was always right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wooden bench beside Jess dipped as his partner sat down beside him. A gentle tug pulled his gun out of his hand followed by the rag. Glancing at his partner, Slim rubbed and oiled his gun as carefully as Jess had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde man blew down the open barrel with one quick breath. “Jess are you sure you want to do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bright blue eyes scoured him making Jess want to crawl under the bench. He would never admit he felt like hiding from Slim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to, we’ve already been over this. Mort needs my help. Why else would he ask for it?” If that was true then why did his heart race in his chest like it did? Why did his hands shake so hard he could barely guide Traveler home? “Don’t start Slim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Start-” Slim began to protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m gonna to stop you right there. This is my choice. I have the right to do this Slim. I have to do it. It’s the only…” Jess’ deep voice cracked. He took a steadying breath hoping his partner wouldn’t notice. “It’s the only way this can stop. I can’t hide from the world pard. I spent three long years trying to hide from this way of life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim took a breath to say something, but Jess plowed ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Mort tried your best to keep me out of trouble and for that I’m grateful to you. I really am. But I’m a man of sorrows, Slim. This kind of life,” Jess panned his arms around the room. “-was never meant for me. No matter how hard I try, trouble will always find me. It’s time I stop hiding from reality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark haired man stood up from the table and took his gun from the shocked blonde rancher. Deftly, Jess snapped the cylinder back into the place and joined the barrel and stock back together. Sweeping the rag up, he wrapped it around his working rig and shoved his gunfighting gun in his holster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess stared at the gun resting on his hip. After three years he was back where he started. He could never put the gun down and hide from the monster that lived inside him. A pitiful voice in his head whispered he wasn’t the same man as he was three years but he skillfully squashed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess turned his sapphire eyes to his best friend. The uneasiness that lived inside him was echoed in his partner's eyes. Tears pricked behind his eyelids. Why was this so hard?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess.” Slim’s usually steady voice quivered with emotion. Against his best intentions a gasp escaped Jess as tears trailed down his cheeks. Slim climbed to his feet and pointed a gloved finger at his friend's holster. “Jess you are not the same man as you were when you came here three years ago. The man you used to be would never be wearing a badge and carrying that gun right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost as if Slim had read his mind. Slim’s face swam around the droplets leaking from Jess’ eyes. A hitch from Slim told Jess his partner was crying as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess Harper you are a good man. You may be mule headed, cantankerous, full of mischief and reckless, but you have always been true to yourself. That gun in your holster doesn’t control you. You have never used that gun to hurt someone for spite.” Slim placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Wear that gun knowing you’re different, changed, from who you used to be. Believe in yourself, because I do. Mort does as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess sniffed away the tears and looked up at his partner. For once he was grateful Mike and Daisy were out of the house for a minute. He needed a minute to collect himself. Releasing a ragged breath he felt his nerves calm. He was scared, that was the harsh truth, but Slim was right. He had to trust himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grasping the handle of his six-shooter, Jess felt determination course through him from head to toe. Jess knew there was a possibility this day would come where taking off his gun would come back to haunt him. The minute this gun was placed in the false overhang of the fireplace, he was setting himself up to lose a gunfight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of practice and scared stiff, he’d make sure whoever was behind this went down with him if there was no other choice. He was willing to pay the price so long as his family remained safe. Slim let his hand drop allowing Jess to take a step to the open door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Slim questioned, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small grin crossed Jess’ face. “We have work to do, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both cowboys walked out the door, forcing smiles on their faces. The least they could do was spend as much time together as they could before morning came.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The lamp was turned down low, casting strange and distorted shadows across the walls. The room was so dark the gunman could see nothing but the vague figure of the man facing him. Hatch resisted the urge to turn up the lamp. He wanted to see the man who he took his orders from, but the shadows made that wish impossible. Then again, his mind supplied images of what could happen if he saw his employer’s face. He’d be better if he didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s Cory up to?” The employer asked lifelessly, body uncharacteristically still in his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hatch felt a shiver of disgust crawl up his back. There was something about the stranger that made Hatch want to simply pull out his gun and kill him. But considering what happened to the last ‘Hatch’ who attempted to solve his problems that way, he knew it was unwise. His employer paid him well, however, the man was crazy. Who in their right mind would hire men out to kill innocent people because the man a few feet from him found them hard to live with? Hatch wanted out of this business but he knew that was impossible. Once he agreed to carry the name of the Hatch, he knew he was in over his head. When it came down to it, a jury would see him hang as high as the man who paid him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sheriff’s in his Office at the moment. When I came into town there were two cowboys talking with Cory. Are they the men you told me about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employer's figure moved, sweeping the curtain open peering down onto the street. Pale moonlight drifted through the window highlighting the employer's face. Hatch stiffened. The man wasn’t at all like he thought he was. An instant later, the curtain was released and darkness filled the room again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My last Hatch made a fateful mistake. He was too quick to go after Jess Harper and was killed for it.” The monotonous tone tightened. “If you wish to live longer I suggest you don’t make that mistake as well. This job requires patience. Should you feel this job is too much...well, you know what will happen. I have too much at stake for you to destroy it all in seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hatch stiffened at Jess’ name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Jess boy. What have you gotten yourself into this time? Why is it you can never stay out of trouble? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought. Hatch swallowed thickly. He knew what would happen to him if he didn’t kill Jess. His heart ached at the thought of killing an old trail companion for this creep. A chill swept up his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me make it clear, I want Harper dead before the end of the week. I don’t care how you do it, but do it you will. You know who I am now, need I remind you that men in your profession don’t live long if they fail to complete their job? I hired you, and I can have you killed just as easily.” The employer shifted in his high backed chair. “I want Harper dead without any strings attached. Kill him, but make sure no one can be arrested for murder, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.” Hatch croaked out around the lump in his throat. He’d done some rotten things in his life, but he’d never stooped as low as to kill an old friend for a stranger. “Sir? What about Sherman and his annoying Sheriff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep them alive if you can, if not, make sure it looks like an accident.” A hand pointed to the door. “Don’t contact me until you leave Laramie with Harper six feet under. And Hatch? Don’t forget I own you. If you betray me, the streets of this fine town will turn into a bloodbath,  and your precious Harper will be the first one to fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dismissed, Hatch closed the door behind him and trudged back to his room, heart pounding in his chest. The face of the man in the room he’d recently exited burned behind his eyes. The game had turned a lot deadlier now that he’d seen the man behind the Hatch gunmen. Hatch bitterly shook his head. If he knew Jess he’d turn over every rock and crevice until he found the man who wanted him dead. Wouldn’t he be surprised to know the man behind it all was here in Laramie waiting to see him fall.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Five pounds. Slightly under ten inches long. A lead casing smaller than a man's finger. Half an inch of movement that had the potential to leave carnage in its wake. It was so simple; how a gun worked, and yet so deadly. Why did he ever agree to this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess sat on the hard wooden chair, arms propped on his knees, studying the gun clutched in his hand. This gun and his short temper had started his life on a one way track to the gallows. Or choking on his own blood in the street. Whichever came first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess!” Mort yelled. Jess’ head snapped up, startled. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, son?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark headed gunfighter dropped his gaze to his hands, embarrassed Mort had caught him deeply withdrawn into his own head. Mort was concerned about him, that much was plain to see, yet he wasn’t strong enough to dredge up the past and explain what he was feeling. What happened years ago in the past should stay in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’.” Jess shrugged, hoping Mort would take the hint he didn’t want to talk about it. Unfortunately, his friend wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheriff Cory rose to his feet and slung a leg over the corner of his desk. “Jess. I may not know you as well as Slim does, but I know when something’s eating you inside out.” The young gun slick met his gaze briefly before looking away. “Come now Jess. What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort’s question hung in the air. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jess wrestled inwardly with himself. Why did he find it so hard to talk to Mort? A tiny voice in his head piped up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You have to trust somebody. It’s time to let them in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mort. Why did you ask me to put the gun on again?” Jess shook the revolver gripped tightly in his hand. “When I first came to Laramie you made it clear-” Jess raised the gun. “-this part of me was dead. I was free to stay in Laramie and work for Slim if I promised to lay down the gun. Why ask me to break that promise? Why ask me to go back? I’ve worked so hard to be a different man, now...why ask me to risk it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheriff Cory sighed. “Jess. Believe it or not you are a good man. A very good man. That skinny, hot tempered, reckless, gun fighter who rode into Laramie and landed a job with Slim never would have lasted five minutes in this town if you hadn’t proven yourself to be something more. Jess, Slim and I knew you had the ability to settle down and have a good life.” Mort picked at his fingernails. “I’ve been a lawman for nigh fifteen years. From sheriff to deputy, I’ve run out more gunfighters just like you more times than I care to count. The thing is, there was something that made you different from those dozens of trouble makers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark haired man shoved the revolver back where it belonged and ran his finger through his long dark hair. “What Mort? What is it that made me different? You said yourself several times all you saw in those first few weeks was the gun I wore at my side. The notches and ghosts that haunt me at every waking hour of the day. Why was I so special?!” Agitated, Jess pushed to his feet and paced the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort rose as well but kept his distance from his friend. It was best if Jess worked through it on his own. “The only difference that mattered was your willingness to put away the gun. Son look at me... "</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man turned on his heel to look at Mort. His eyes were bright with anger... yet, they were also filled with pain. Mort thought he was like a young green colt. He could give you a smooth easy ride one day and leave you groaning in the dirt the next. Sheriff Cory took a small step towards his friend. He had to make Jess understand that to him, he was a friend, not a charity case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You are not like all those other young gunmen that I've run out in my career. Ever since day one you were willing to try your hardest to be a different man. That’s why Slim and I have given you every chance we can. Don’t think we reformed you, no, you did all the work yourself. Sure we gave you a nudge now and again, but it’s you who changed who you are to become a better man. Because of that, you’re where you are now. That gun is only as much of a crutch as you want it to to be. I realize I may have been a little out of line asking you to put it on again. I asked you to put it on because I know you can wear it and stay true to yourself. By putting on that gun doesn’t mean you’ve turned back to your old ways. Let that gun on your hip show that you're strong enough to resist the urge to use it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> The young gun hawk looked up into his friend's eyes. Mort sounded like he had complete trust in him... but how could he be sure? How could Mort know he was different when he didn’t feel any different? Jess dropped his gaze to the floor. If only his friends knew how far his gun had taken him outside the law. If they knew the truth, well, they would never look at him the same way again. They might even show him the door because they'd found what kind of a monster he was underneath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His mind whirled and spun. Was there the slightest possibility that Mort could actually be right? Could he actually change from the cold-hearted killer he had once been to someone who would lay their life on the line to save someone they loved? Did he even have a right to be loved? He knew he cared for Mike and Daisy, but how much could they love him? After all, he was nothing but a saddle tramp, a drifter, someone who roamed with the tumbleweeds, he never gave and never got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't trust himself to make the right decision. He didn't trust himself to rage with anger in every fiber of his being and still respect the badge pinned on his vest. That was what scared him the most. To wear the gun and badge together and be expected to make the right decision at the right time. When he was alone on the trail he had only himself to take care of, now his decision could destroy all that he loved and cared for. It wasn't just him paying the price anymore. His actions now determined the fate of others, he was tied down, tethered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His recklessness had gotten the better of him last time. What would happen if his anger controlled him again this time as well? The new Hatch in town wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears boy trying to make a name for himself. No. This new man was dangerous and very skilled. If control wasn't found now, it’d be too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red always warned him about his anger, and as a young boy he never saw what Red was trying to get through his head. He understood it now. As a young gun fighter, he had nothing to care for and no one to care for him. It didn’t matter if he died in a gunfight somewhere. He was nothing to no one. The town would bury him, say good riddance, and he’d never be thought of again. There was a time when he was okay with that. He’d been alone in the world and it never mattered from one day to the next if you lived or died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim had changed that  with his offer of a job. Jess should have known it was more than a job even then. It wasn't a job. It was a home. One second he was a drifter with nothing to his name, and the next he was a wealthy man, owning something more precious than money could ever buy. He supposed he had Andy to thank for that. Slim would never have offered him a job if Andy hadn't pushed him to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at the gun in his holster Jess thought about what Mort had said. As a young gun fighter, he lived by the gun. Even now when he walked into a town, all eyes were drawn to the tie-down holster at his hip. It was a symbol, a reminder, a warning what kind of a man he was. Even Mort had been known to run out men because of the way they wore their guns. Admittedly, there had to be a good reason why Mort didn’t run him out like he’d done to the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An emotion Jess hadn’t felt since childhood crept through him. Could there be hope for him after all? Realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Mort and Slim had been willing to give him a second chance since day one, perhaps it was time he gave himself that same chance they had. Squaring his shoulders, Jess looked his friend straight in the eyes for the first time all day. It was time to move on from who he used to be. He owed himself that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Mort watched the war raging in Jess’ head. It must be hard for Jess to wear the gun at his side after so long. When Jess’ eyes cleared and met his for the first time all day Mort took it as a good sign. Gazing at the stock of the gun in Jess’ holster Mort saw something he’d overlooked when Jess first rode with Slim into Laramie. Last he knew, Jess never notched his gun, yet, dozens of methodical slashes lined the modified gun at his young friend's hip. Where had they come from?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess, where did those notches come from?” Mort pointed at the walnut stock by the gunman's gloved hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden lump lodged in Jess’ throat. That was a question Jess hated to answer. But considering how much trouble Mort had gone to to help him start a better life, he owed him an honest answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah...Right after I’d left the Panhandle country I came across a veteran gunfighter. I’d gotten into a scuffle at a bar near the Texas border. The gunfighter saved me from a bullet in the back and I drifted around with him for a while. Now, I’m not going to say he was a good example, but his teachings kept me alive. This gun--and the notches--are his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort looked at Jess for a long moment, not sure how to answer. “So you never notched your gun?” Jess shook his head morosely. “Jess, how did you get that gun? What was your mentor's name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red had his enemies like every gunfighter does. I’d been on the trail with Red Tanners for...almost three years. We always knew there was a chance one or both of us could die some time. I guess I thought I had more time before…” Jess blew out a rapid breath. “It was overcast late one night, Red and I had been run out of a town in lower Nebraska.” The young gunfighters' voices dipped and quivered. “All I saw was shadows and heard gunfire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence filled the room. Mort stood still, waiting for Jess to continue when he was ready. Boots rapped on the hard floors boards as Jess walked in a wide circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally the silence was broken. “Red died right there in the cold, and the mud, and the dark. I took him back to the town we’d been run out of. The Sheriff refused to send out a posse. He complained about it being too late and cold.” A soft scoff reached Mort’s ears. “The Sheriff promised to bury Red, then used both barrels of a sawed off shotgun to run me out of town. I couldn’t even stay to bury him. I...I took this gun...to remember him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort felt emotion rise inside of him. He felt like he was a stranger looking at Jess for the first time in his life. For a second he’d been allowed a rare chance to see what made Jess the way he is. The black glove on his friend's hand traced the rows of notches carefully carved into the stock. He could see every mark was carved with precision so the rows of notches lined up perfectly. That small detail helped him start to understand who Red Tanners was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t a man alive who hadn’t heard the name Red Tanners at one time or another. Red had a stiff reputation for being good at his job. Jess was considered good with a gun, but Tanners...there wasn’t a man alive who could draw on Red Tanners and live to tell that tale. Red had never lost a single gunfight in all his years--if the notches on Jess’ gun were any indication. He wondered how close Jess had been to this man for him to be so broken up about not being there to bury him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ever notch the gun yourself?” Mort felt like he knew the answer would be no, but he had to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Red always told me, ‘If you reach for the gun to solve every problem then there’s no doubt you’re a coward.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That seems a little harsh considering Red’s reputation.” Mort commented gently, drawing out the conversation hoping to find out how Jess felt about Red Tanners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess whipped around in anger, his blue eyes flashing. Mort felt a part of him back away in trepidation at Jess’ sudden reaction. Obviously he cared for the man deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong Mort! Red had a reputation, but that was all it was, a reputation! All you see was what whispers and half truths told you about him. You don’t know anything about what kind of a man he is! You don’t know how he refused to kill for extra cash! You don’t know how many times he gave freely to people in need. Only he had to do it in secret because those fine upstanding citizens couldn’t stand the thought of taking money from a man who was lower than the dirt on their boots. You don’t know how hard he worked to keep his nose clean and work hard for every cent he got, only to be run out the second someone discovered his real name! That’s the problem Mort! You don’t know!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angry man dashed around Mort and exited the Sheriff’s Office like someone had set his tail on fire. Receding footsteps on the boardwalk trailed the path of his Deputy as he worked to get as far away from him as he could. Mort sank into his favorite chair confused. Why had Jess taken his question so badly? Faster than he could spit, Jess had gone from sadness to anger in a few short moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the blood washed from Mort’s face as he understood the words Jess had just yelled at him. ‘You don’t know anything about what kind of a man he</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. Not ‘was’. Realization clicked in the Sheriff’s head. Jess had been torn about wearing the gun since yesterday afternoon when he left the Office. Mort had mistakenly assumed it was because Jess saw it as stepping back into his own ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The features of the new gunfighter in town ran like a broken record in his mind. Jess didn’t want to put on the gun </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> the new ‘Hatch’ came into town. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jess recognized him and wore the man’s gun at his hip</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Red Tanners; the man who taught Jess everything he knows, was alive and kicking in Laramie.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Red Tanners wasn’t a tall man. Usually when he walked into a room he was underestimated, belittled and overlooked. That was how much the gun at his hip had changed things. Not many men wore their guns low and tied down. What too many lawmen and do-gooders failed to understand was a large amount of hired guns wearing their guns low, did it to gain attention. They wanted the Sheriffs and town’s people to see the tied-down holster and fear them. If lawmen were smart enough to take away their control, gunmen would pose no threat to their sleepy little towns. A gunfighter always brought fear to any town. Men in his profession had the tendency of bringing out the worst in others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching out his tired legs, Red watched Jess storm out the Sheriff’s Office and stride down the boardwalk from his hotel window. The tension in the young man’s shoulders was all he needed to know Jess was angry, no he was boiling. Sheriff Cory stood at his own window watching the retired gunfighter storm down the street before turning back into the safety of his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red frowned slightly. He knew Jess well enough to tell when he needed space to work whatever was going on in his head out, but he also knew the hard way, leaving Jess to his own devices when he was mad could be dangerous. Dangerous for Jess and whoever happened to step in his way at the wrong time. Red glanced at the door to his room and chewed his lip. He wanted to talk with Jess alone, but he also knew if his boss found out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he had a chance to think about every reason why he shouldn’t, Red was already out the back door of the hotel. He needed to talk to Jess.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>His boots pounded on the wooden boardwalk drawing curious stares. He was being foolish and he knew it, but between Red and Mort, he felt like he was in the middle of a war. Mort wanted him to fight against Red and he understood that. Red was a Hatch now. It was safe to say the man he once knew had changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess rubbed his chin and forced his pace to slow. It was hard to explain to Mort how he felt. He felt himself being stretched to his breaking point from two directions. On one side, Mort and Slim wanted him to keep a moral high ground. The deputies badge pinned on his vest reminded him of the promise he’d made. On the opposite side, there was Red Tanners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Tanners had become everything Jess had ever wanted in a mentor. Sure Red had his own faults then, but he’d always proved he was a good man. As a gunfighter, no one ever saw past the gun strapped to his mentors hip. Only Jess had seen what kind of a man Red really was. He was the kind of man that would give everything he had to help out a stranger. Red freely gave and did his best to make people see who he really was, not what the gun made him out to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there were the lessons. Red’s lessons on how to use a gun were harsh to some, but they’d kept Jess alive for more years than he could count. Red’s lessons taught him how to read a crowd in a saloon and how to pick out disguised lawmen. It was Red who helped Jess know when to bluff to get his way out of trouble or when to draw. Not only was he taught how to use a gun, but the morals and ideals he needed to keep from becoming bloodthirsty and greedy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In many ways he owed his life ten times over to Red. How could he stand and fight against his friend, his mentor? Slipping into a back alley behind the livery stable Jess rested against crates stacked precariously high. How could he be expected to choose between his promises to Slim and Mort and the loyalty he owed to Red? He owed Red for the kind of man he’d become through his training, but he also owed Slim and Mort just as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impulsively, Jess shot to his feet, slamming the toe of his boot into an abandoned bucket. The dark haired man hobbled painfully up the alleyway working off the pain that radiated inside his foot. Why was it when he finally had something good to hold onto someone always, always, came to take it away? Why was it just his bad luck that Red Tanners, the man he once trusted freely with his life, was here in Laramie with the intent to strip him of every good thing he’d ever worked for?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of these days your anger will get the best of you...if it already hasn’t.” The painfully familiar voice caused Jess to spin around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red Tanners stood calmly in the alley behind Jess. Instinctively, Jess dropped his right hand closer to his gun, unsure of what Red was planning. In the mid-morning light Jess studied his former mentor. Likewise, Red did the same, reaching down to pull his holster in a better position. Black leather gloves covering clenched and unclenched in anticipation. Both men tensed, waiting for the other to make the first move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red took a measured step forward and pushed back his black hair with a swipe of his hand, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Well, aren’t you going to greet your oldest friend and mentor?” A small smile creased the corner of Red’s mouth as he stared down his young protege. “I swear boy, if I had wanted to gun you down you’d be hauled to the undertaker right about now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess grimaced. Typical Red to point out his flaws even when they hadn’t seen each other in almost ten years. Silently, Jess studied the changes in his former mentor. Red’s hair was lighter than he remembered but he still moved with a deadly grace. No doubt in his mind, Red was just as good with a gun as he was years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to you?” Jess' deep voice was dry and cracked with concealed emotion. “The last time I saw you was in Nebraska. You’d been shot up pretty bad and I’d rode ten miles in the rain to take you back to the nearest town. That hard-nosed Sheriff ran me out as soon as I arrived. All this time I thought you were dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark haired mentor shifted to stand on one leg. “That night I was shot...they took me to the undertaker only to find out I was still alive. The town Doc patched me up and as soon as I could ride the Sheriff strapped me on my horse and sent me on my way. I wanted to track you down after I was back on my feet, but…” Red started to say more but he stopped himself not wanting to reveal more to Jess. “Well, you had already moved on and we were going to have to split up some time...I figured a clean break was best for both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess stared at his former mentor for a long moment digesting what the man had said. Red’s explanation had more holes in it than a leaky bucket. There was no doubt in his mind Red was lying to him, but a part of him wanted to believe Red was telling the truth. For once, Jess wanted an ally who didn’t betray him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You checked into the hotel under the name Hatch, no surname. Funny...a month ago another gunfighter signed in under the same name as you, no surname either.” Jess’ expression hardened, offering no sympathy or understanding to the man standing rigidly a few feet away. “Don’t lie to me, Red. I know someone is hiring gunmen to carry the name of Hatch. Who is he? How did you get mixed up in this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last ten years have been good to you Jess. The way I hear, you’ve made quite a name for yourself. You’ve drifted from one end of this country to the other all the while collecting notches.” Jess stiffened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never collected </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> notches. I’m not like you.” Jess argued venomously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mistake...You never were the kind to kill without a reason. Everything for you had to be in order. You have anger inside you Jess, anger that you fight with daily. From what I hear you’ve kept it in check well enough, but you’re scared of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess shook his head. “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re scared. You’ve always been scared of who you really are!” Red raised his voice as his words gained speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Jess! I’m not wrong and that's what scared you the most isn’t it? Isn’t it?! Anger can be a tool if you want it to be. What are you so scared of, boy? Using it? What is it you’re scared if you lose control, this pretty little life you’ve made up here will crumble. That Mr. Sherman will see you for what you really are…a killer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I’m not like you!” Jess found himself yelling at the top of his lungs not caring who it brought to investigate. Regret tumbled in the bottom of his stomach. It looked like he was going to have to draw against his former mentor after all. Jess dropped his tone. “What happened to you Red? This isn’t you. You’ve changed...I don’t know you anymore...” Jess took a half step forward. “Do you remember when you and I met? I was a skinny little kid with nothing but a gun and a horse. Do you remember? You saved my life and then taught me everything I know. Now it’s like that good man is completely gone, a shell of what you used to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t changed Jess. For the first time you finally see me for who I am, a ruthless gunfighter. You know why I’m here and what I have to do. The world isn’t black and white.” Red visibly deflated and his posture softened. “I never wanted this life. I never wanted you to have this life either. But here we are...having a secret meeting in a dirty back alley away from all the fine folks of Laramie. Once you start using the gun, you can’t ever put it down. This line of work buries us…I don’t know who I work for.” Red admitted. “Take my advice, leave Laramie go somewhere, anywhere. Just put as much distance between you and this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t and won’t leave Red. Laramie is my home. I have a family, friends, and responsibilities. It’s taken me three long years to have what I have now and I won’t give it up. I don’t scare easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red smiled grimly. “Listen, if you stay in Laramie I’ll have no choice but to kill you. From a friend to a friend, get out of Laramie before noon today. Like you said, you have a family now, you ain’t riding the trail alone anymore. These threats don’t just stop at you, they extend to your family as well. Please Jess! For old times sake, get out of town now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess dropped his gaze to the dirt thinking about what Red had said. When he looked up, Red was long gone. The alley Jess occupied was empty. A chill swept over him. Red had made it clear: either he left, or Slim, Mike and Daisy would get hurt.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>“‘The trick is learning to live with yourself for eternity.’”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>-Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Red Tanners slunk through the back alleys. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get Jess off his mind. Jess had changed a lot in the last ten years to a man Red barely even recognized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunfighter thought back to the warning he had given his protege. Hopefully, Jess would see reason and leave Laramie like he’d told him. If Jess left then he wouldn’t have to kill his young friend after all. If Jess was stubborn and stayed Red could also get into trouble for killing Jess too soon. His employer had made it clear he had to be careful killing Jess. If he so much as left a trace for any layman to follow...Red didn’t want to think about what could happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as the Boss never found out about his conversation with Jess they both should be safe...if they were lucky. His employer was as unpredictable as the wind. There was a good possibility that he might be the one who died instead of Jess should he leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess was nothing more than a wild eyed kid with nothing to his name when he’d found him. The kid had been vulnerable then and open about what had happened to his family. Jess had even admitted he was deathly afraid of fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun?” Red spun at the familiar voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in the street behind him was none other than his employer. Red swallowed thickly waiting for the axe to fall. He had been so careful! How had his employer known?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope I haven't made a mistake trusting you with this assignment. It seems you may be a little too close to Harper for this kind of job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...No!” Red sputtered. His eyes dropped to the gun resting on his employer's hip waiting for it to be drawn and used to kill him. “Sir, I can do this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His employer stared at him harshly, slowly making up his mind. “I hope you mean that, but I need proof. Talk is cheap. I don’t need a gunfighter who can talk, I need a gunfighter who has the strength to pull the trigger no matter who’s on the other end of the gun. Friend or foe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can assure you sir, Jess Harper isn’t a friend.” Red said, trying to pacify his employer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An eyebrow curled upwards lifelessly. “Is that so? Is that why you were behind the Livery Stable having a meeting with Harper? Tell me Red, where does your loyalty lie? With me, or with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red waited in silence for a moment. Where did his loyalties lie? Who was he fighting for? Coming to a decision, Red held his employers gaze brazenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employer's head bobbed like a dead chicken on a string. “Then you know what you have to do. Use your conversation with Jess against him. You know every ghost and fear hidden in Harper’s closet. Use them, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red nodded carefully. When his employer made no move to speak again he turned to leave the back alley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Red!” The employer called after him. Red turned. “Be sure he’s dead before noon today. Also, the next time you betray me I won’t be so forgiving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart lodged in his throat, Red strode away from his employer and walked towards the school house making sure to stay hidden. As Red rounded the back of the General Store he picked up a can of kerosene forgotten on the back step. Next he pulled three matches from his vest pocket. It was time he chose a side. All he could do is hope to find forgiveness before it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry Jess...</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Frazzled, Jess wandered back towards Mort’s Office. His conversation with Red left him tired--and surprisingly--angry. Yes, he was angry! He was angry with Red for thinking he could just waltz into Laramie, flounce around, and then expect Jess to hit the road the second he said ‘boo’. Perhaps he was being temperamental, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up stakes and leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, there was a badge pinned to his chest now. Mort needed--more like expected--Jess to help him out until the ‘Hatch problem’ was fixed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guiltily, Jess hung his head. It may seem all well and good for him to stay in Laramie because he wanted to, but his family would pay the price. If he didn’t leave before noon he could full well be burying his family by the end of the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming to a stop in the street, Jess gazed at the signs marking all the shops in town. This dirty, rugged, and frustratingly hard headed community was his home. These people--leery at first--had graciously given him every chance they could to change his life around. Sure, most of the work straightening him out was done by Slim and Mort, but the town had chipped in it’s own two-bits where he was concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was drifting, he didn’t think twice about leaving a town because he had nothing tying him to it. It was hard for anyone to take something from him because he simply had nothing to lose. He had no town, no home, no family, nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a well known fact that people only worked to take what you had when you had something to lose. He wasn’t a drifter anymore. He was a man who now had a lot to lose. Jess didn’t want to think about what might happen if he lost his family for a second time. A piece of himself had died in the fire that took his family as a young boy. Half-cocked, Jess had tramped across the country looking for a boon. He needed something, someone, to fill the hole in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim had been that boon. Sure, it’d taken him some time before he was able to settle down and be fine with where he was. The hardest thing to get over was the trail fever. But after several long hard months he’d done it. It was easier to look at a sunrise and not be tempted by the desire to see what was on the other side of it. Perhaps he was getting soft in his ‘retirement’ from gunfighting, but he just didn’t want to leave Laramie without a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew what was happening, his footsteps strayed to the Livery Stable where Traveler was resting comfortably in a freshly mucked stall. Rubbing a hand over his horse's silky neck Jess considered his options. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone wanted him out of Laramie as soon as possible. Why would they want him gone? If he left he could protect Slim, Mike and Daisy. Could he? What if someone wanted him far from Laramie so they could harm his family without having to go through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, sending him away just to kill his family to prove a sick point was the kind of thing Red was capable of doing. Why did things have to be so complicated!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess gave into the anger and reached for the Deputies badge pinned proudly to his vest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who was he kidding?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You can take the gun from the gunfighter, but you can’t take the gunfighter out of the gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short, a gunfighter is what he would always be. Red always warned him about hiring out his gun to solve a cowards problem. Jess scoffed loudly to himself. It seems Red had gone back on his own advice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imagine that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jess thought bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he needed to stop his former mentor from reeking havoc on those he cared dearly for. Harshly, Jess ripped the tin badge off his vest. His loyalties were being stretched to their limits. The badge in his hand replicated the responsibilities tying him to this sleepy little town. Mort, Slim, Mike and Daisy were counting on him seeing this mess through the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess’ right hand shook with indecision. There was a war raging in his head. One side demanded he leave this moment to prevent his family from getting hurt. On the other side, he wanted to put the badge back on and protect his family as well as he could, without leaving like Red wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly his right hand rose to his vest to pin it back where it belonged when a shout drew him out on the street. Thick black smoke billowed from the west cloaking the town in a dense fog. Frightened citizens raced haphazardly across the streets knocking into each other. His internal war momentarily forgotten, Jess ran towards the source of the smoke hoping his premonitions weren’t correct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally reaching the outskirts of town Jess mournfully took in the situation. His heart dropped to his boots when his worst fears were confirmed. The school was on fire! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two thoughts raced in his mind. First, this fire definitely wasn't an accident. Second, where was Mike!?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Swarms of men and women ran to the school house looking for their missing children. Jess waded through the crowd fighting past the frenzied parents who jostled him back and forth searching the small group of children on the grass. In the distance Jess recognized a familiar brown hat he’d given Mike for his birthday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grateful he was safe, Jess focused on the scene around him. Somewhere in the crowd he could hear Mort’s voice ringing out trying to calm everyone down enough to get a bucket line together to put the flames out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess pushed his way to where Mort was calling out instructions when something caught his eye. The form of a man slipped through the shadows and ducked into a back alley. It was clear he didn’t want to be noticed. Intrigued, Jess pushed his way out of the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearing the alley’s entrance the man Jess was pursuing turned and stared back defiantly. With his left hand Jess pushed the needle of the Deputies badge back into the leather hide of his vest. The tiny flame of hope flickered and died out. Red was nothing more than a ruthless gunfighter. It was futile to continue to hope Red was the good man Jess had once known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorrow etched a hole in his heart. What kind of monster sets fire to a school house full of defenseless children?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black gloved hand at Jess’ side clenched and slipped the trigger loop off his revolver prepared for a gunfight. When he’d first seen Red in Laramie he’d doubted his ability to square up to his mentor and have the courage to draw his gun and pull the trigger, hang the consequences. Now...now the turmoil in Jess’ gut had his finger itching to pull the trigger. Any and all self control had been stripped away like it had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mentor at the end of the alley calmly watched his protege square up to him. Burning the school house was an all new low for Red. Guilt swirled inside him but he pushed it aside. He had chosen this line of work, now he had to see it to the end. Burning the school was the final straw to break Jess’ resolve. Likewise, Red pulled the trigger loop of his own gun and squared his shoulders. <em>It was time to finish this...</em></span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Mike backed away from the growing red flames that crept towards him. All around him he could see his classmates huddle around their teacher, tears streaming down their faces. Slim and Jess were always calm when faced with danger. Mike’s hands shook and his mouth was dry. He wanted to be strong like Slim and Jess but he felt himself failing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Motionless, Mike watched the angry flames lick the wooden floorboards of the school and inch closer to him at a rapid pace. Black putred smoke and ash suffocated them. All eyes looked mournfully at the window across the room. Ms. Harmen had tried unsuccessfully to open the jammed window even a few inches. A small group of children had gotten through the door before it’d burst into flames leaving everyone else trapped in this furnace.The flames pushed them back against the wall furthest away from the windows and door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike looked around at his fellow classmates and friends. He knew he was going to die. Coughing, the boy shrank even further into the wall hoping the flames would miraculously snuff out and leave him in peace. Hopeful, he listened to the sound of men yelling outside the school house walls. Tears tracked down Ms. Harmen’s face. Help wouldn’t get to them in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood on his shaky legs and walked to the burning timber as close as he dared. Wisps of smoke rose to the ceiling distorting the image of a familiar figure standing with his back to the burning building. Jess was staring fiercely down the alley almost with an aura of anger and...fear? Was Jess afraid? He was never afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess could stare down a charging bear without the slightest shred of fear. What was Jess so scared about now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess!” The young boy yelled as loud as he could trying to raise his young voice over the roaring fire and shouts outside. Mike yells turned into screams trying to get his mentor’s attention. “Jess help! Help me please! Somebody help me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The form of his guardian and best friend remained stock still. Desperation clawed the young boy's throat. Hot flames caught the sleeve of his best shirt on fire. Howling, Mike swatted the flames out and retreated back to his scared classmates clutching his burnt arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear and pain filled tears tracked down his soot stained cheeks. He gave into hopelessness. “Oh Jess, please save me.” Mike pulled his knees up to his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. “Please! I don’t wanna die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot red flames lapped closer as white ash descended gracefully on the sobbing child.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Stoically, Jess watched Red for the smallest sign of movement. The muscles in his back and arms tightened in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess...help!” A tiny broken voice carried in the wind and smoke towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess’ heart lurched. He’d been so bent on chasing Red he’d failed to make sure if Mike was safe. Guilt seized his heart. The Deputies badge on his vest made it clear he had an obligation to Laramie to make Red pay for what he’d just done but he had a more powerful obligation to Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help...please!” Mike’s screams filled Jess’ ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess looked at Red. He wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in Red for what he’d done but Mike was in danger and his safety took precedence. He would deal with Red later. His decision made, he turned his back to Red, his thoughts were focused only on the young boy who held his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he ran he thought nothing of leaving his unprotected back to Red. Mike needed him and he was willing to do anything to keep him safe!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds turned to hours as time slowed to a stop. His attention was so focused on the school he didn’t hear Red’s yells. Nor did he hear the boom of a gun. The shouts of men around him forming the bucket line mixed with the popping timber masked the sound of the shot to all witnesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he did feel was the roaring, ripping, white hot pain as a bullet snaked into the flesh of his back. The grass and dirt under his feet blurred as he crashed down onto the hard ground. Wheezing, Jess worked to draw air into his starved lungs as pain spread through his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimly, Jess watched as the toe of a boot crunched beside his ear. He threw his head back trying to see who towered over him. A hand descended, pulling him up by the scruff of his collar. His limp boots drug a line in the dirt before he lost consciousness.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sweat beaded and pooled between his shoulder blades soaking his shirt. All at once he realized he felt miserable. He tried to swallow and gagged on the sick salty taste coating the inside of his mouth. There wasn’t the tiniest bit of spit in his entire mouth to drown out the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess blinked heavily trying to clear away the sweat that stung his eyes. Forcing his exhausted mind to work he searched his surroundings. The sight greeting him made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Burning timber and ash rained down on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> In self-preservation, he threw his arms up to protect himself from the falling wood. The hot flame licked and burned into his arms and back. Confused, he thought about how he got in here. Why was he in the school? The ceiling above him shifted sending hot embers and yet more burning wood down on top of him. Frantically he kicked and flailed at the burning planks pushing them off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the burning projectiles were gone he painfully sat up looking at the smoldering room around him. To the right a stack of wooden chairs pushed against the corner were burning, throwing red hot sparks on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes landed on the door half a pace to the left. Jess forced his aching body to cooperate. Weakly, he gathered his feet underneath him and stumbled to the door frame knocking his good shoulder painfully. A groan escaped him as his hand fished for the door knob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!!!” The dark haired man jerked his burning hand back and looked at the festering burn that now covered his entire palm after gripping the hot door knob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he curled the fingers of his other hand around his sleeve and pulled down hard. The sound of fabric tearing made his heart beat faster. If he kept moving he’d be able to get out of this tinderbox without burning alive. Gently, he wrapped the torn fabric around his festering hand and grabbed at the door knob again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old wooden door creaked open a couple inches before it came to a stop. Jess nearly sobbed in frustration. The man pushed against it as hard as he could. No luck. The door held fast against what ever pinned it closed from the outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anguished, Jess slammed his shoulder into the wooden door in an attempt to force it to move. Once again the door came to an abrupt halt leaving him trapped.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Red pulled his hat down low over his eyes and pushed the bucket down deep into the rapidly emptying trough. Making sure he could get as much water into the bucket as he could he handed it to a red haired man standing beside him waiting to send the bucket down the line. Handing the bucket off, his cold eyes dissected the burning building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scorching red and orange flames leapt into the air a good fifty feet above the roof of the building. He was the furthest from the hot flames but his body dripped with sweat. A sense of dread dampened the crowd as mothers knelt sobbing in the grass for their lost children still trapped inside. Everyone knew there were still at least ten children they hadn’t been able to find along with their teacher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, buckets stopped being handed back and forth down the row. Knowing there was nothing more they could do, everyone was left to watch the flames hungrily devour the dry timber and young bodies inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls of flame made it impossible for anyone to get near enough to get the children out. Tears sparkled against the cheeks of hardened men as they stood watching the flames making the bright sun even hotter eating away the small quaint school house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is he?” An angry voice questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red looked up at the angry Sheriff glaring down at him. The tin star in his vest glowed red reflecting the angry flames consuming the school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” The gunfighter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of fury crossed the already flustered Sheriff’s face. “Who? You know full well who!” A fist clenched Red’s shirt and pulled him closer to the fuming lawman. “You tell me where my Deputy is or so help me I’m gonna-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clatter of a wagon stopped the Sheriff from continuing his threat. The Sheriff now turned his attention to greeting the newcomers. Red stepped back into the shadows where he could watch the Sheriff and Slim Sherman talk without being noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mort!” Slim set the wagon brake and jumped out before the team had completely stopped. “Mort what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheriff Cory halted unsure of himself. Today had been an absolute disaster, one he didn’t want to repeat ever again in his life. Slim’s eyes darted around looking for the dark haired cowboy who was missing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, Slim. Don’t ask where Jess is,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mort begged internally as Slim did just that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Jess? A vise gripped Slim’s heart when Mort looked away seemingly ashamed. “Is Mike alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort suddenly felt the need to finish this discussion in private. Gently he raised a hand to Slim’s shoulder starting to steer him towards his office. The Sheriff nearly dropped in shock when Slim roughly brushed his hand off in sudden anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No!” The blonde man had tears in his eyes now. His voice was ragged and strained. “Mort please, where are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mort’s own heart broke at the desperation in Slim’s voice. Timidly, he reached out his hand to corral his friend into his office so he could tell his news in peace. As anticipated, his hand was once again shoved away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mort tell me straight. Where are they?” Blue eyes strayed to the engulfed school house and immediately clouded with unshed tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim…” Mort figured he had no choice but to tell Slim the truth here and now. “Slim I don’t know where Jess is but Mike…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The veteran lawman stopped to pull himself together. His bottom lip quivered as he thought of the young bodies burning in the fire. His heart ached as he thought about children dying in such a terrible way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike… A fire broke out in the school. A few children were able to get out before the door went up in flames.” Mort lost his composure and his voice hitched. “I’m sorry, son. Mike was one of the children who didn’t get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heart shattering sob came from Daisy where she stood behind Slim unseen. Large tears rolled down her cheeks while Slim was stoic. The rancher's jaw clenched in seething anger. Then at last, the man broke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim charged forwards at the burning building intending to enter the collapsing structure. Mort leaped at his friend catching his arm trying to halt his progress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim no!” Deftly, Mort yelled latching onto his friends arms doing his best to stop the larger man. “Slim there’s nothing you can do! Do you hear me? There’s nothing anyone can do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Slim went limp in Mort’s grip, all the fight having gone out of him. Grief knocked the tall rancher to his knees and he sank to the ground crying. Mort relaxed slightly and stepped away to give Slim some privacy as he mourned young Mike. Sobbing, Daisy wrapped a small arm around Slim’s shoulder offering the man comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty yards away the school billowed black smoke. Suddenly the brittle timber shifted and cracked as the rafters broke like a twig and the roof came down onto the building. Morosely, onlookers watched sick to their stomachs as the fate of all their children was sealed.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>An irritating bead of sweat trickled down the center of his forehead. Jess fought back the urge to brush it away and focused on the broken stick of wood in his hand. His shoulder was pressed tightly against the hot wooden door with his bandaged hand clutching a broken off table leg. Jess poked and prodded with the stick feeling the obstruction on the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At long last the rough wood found a hard object he was sure was blocking the door from opening. Adjusting his stance, Jess readied his pole to push the offending object away when a searing hot pain filled his senses. Looking around he noticed the approaching flames had finally reached him and were catching the back of his pants aflame. With every second the flames grew up the back of his legs sending an agonizing pain through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no time to brush out the flames enveloping him so he did the next best thing. Concentrating hard on the object in his hand he pushed against it with all his might willing the door to swing open. The obstruction moved slightly and then came to a stop again. Jess prodded out another place to force the object away and then pushed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heavy bang sounded on the other side of the door and he gratefully pushed the door open and stepped into the main school room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the group of kids huddled up in the corner on the opposite side of the room watching the flames with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess whipped his hands across the backs of his legs beating out the growing flames there. Once he was sure they were out he raced to the children. Ms. Harmen spotted him first and stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Harper! How did you get in here?” The pretty unmarried teacher’s brown hair was askew and stained with black and white soot and ash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I managed to find a way in.” Jess tipped his head slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That answer wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the entire truth either. For now it’s better if the children don’t know someone did this to them on purpose. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Are you missing any children other than the ones that already got out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman shook her head. “No. I have everyone. I assume we can leave the way you came in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quickly, she motioned for the traumatized children to stand up and get ready to leave. Jess' gaze stopped on Mike. Wordlessly, the young boy rushed over, pressing his head into the man’s side stifling the sobs wracking his young body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we can’t go out that way.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never mind I have no idea how I got in this tinderbox…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess Harper’s sapphire eyes roamed the room taking in every small detail and unusable exits. The fire had crept past the windows making the possibility of breaking through the glass impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Harper, there is a way out isn’t there?” The young school teacher was grasping at straws now. Several children had begun to cry again when they heard their teacher's blunt question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know Ms. Harmen. Do you know any other way out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess scanned the structure for the hundredth time pleading for a way to get out. Was it too much to ask for a way to get the children out safely? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on! There has to be a way I got in here. If someone could get into the school to leave me in here to burn to death then there’s a way out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The rafter creaked ominously above them. There wasn’t much time left before the whole building came down on itself, burning them alive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Solve one problem at a time, one problem at a time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The mantra repeated over and over in his mind while his eyes darted from place to place.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>First we need to get away from the flames as far as possible.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Unceremoniously, Jess gripped the teacher by the arm and pushed her to the back wall untouched by the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Harper!” Jess didn’t give her enough time to finish what she intended to say before he cut her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get the children to the back wall! I’ll find a way out. Whatever you do, don't let anyone get out of your sight, understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ms. Harmen bit her tongue and started pushing the children to the back wall with a quick nod. Meanwhile, Jess knelt down and pulled Mike away from his leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike I need you to be strong for me. Go with Ms. Harmen and the rest of your children. Stay with them whatever happens, you understand?” A vicious cough tore the insides of Jess’ lungs inside out. Not waiting for Mike’s answer he pushed him into the arms of his teacher after playfully tousling his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Jess began to look around the room. He’d nearly walked the entire length of the room--that wasn’t burning--when a thought struck him. Ms. Harmen and the rest of the children had no idea he was in the building. That meant whoever put him in here did it out of their sight. The only room they couldn’t see at all times was-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess fled back to the room he’d just vacated. The only way he got in the building was through the room he’d woken up in. Peering inside the small room he watched the entire room ablaze. That’s when he saw it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why were the chairs stacked up on each other? He’d never noticed the chairs were mismatched making it dangerous to stack them up as high as they were. No right person would stack them no less  in a school where they could topple over and hurt children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dead certain their way out was through that room. The only problem was the floor and walls were fully aflame. He’d never find the way out without getting severely burnt in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess looked at the group of children watching the flames lick closer to them. He couldn’t leave Mike and the rest of the children to slowly burn to death. Not even his worst enemy deserved to die like this. The man’s leather boots crossed into the cramped room directly into the flames.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An inferno enveloped and devoured him as he walked into the flames. Hysteria bubbled at the back of his throat watching the flames jump and dance around him. Burning him, avoiding him...chasing him. Deeply buried memories clawed at him from the depths of his mind. Jess forced himself to pay attention to his surroundings and block out the dark memories that haunted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frantically his eyes moved around the room taking in every detail, looking for what he’d missed. There were no windows in the room or any other doorway that he could see. Jess inched forward towards the stack of chairs leaning precariously against one wall, battling the flames that jumped and grew around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting as close he dared, he peered around the stack of chairs looking to see if there was a doorway hidden from view. Sorrow worked its way through him when he noted there was no doorway on the other side of the chairs like he’d hoped. Confusion swept through him, how else could he have got into the building?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Then another thought struck him. What if the exit wasn't behind the chairs as he thought, but below? Reaching forward with his bandaged hand, he grasped a burning support on the top chair and pulled back hard. Seeing the desired effect, Jess quickly stepped out of the way and the stack of chairs toppled and crashed to the ground beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited long enough to bat out the flames spreading across his bandaged hand before pushing the rest of the burning chairs away from where they once stood. And that's when he saw it. Midst burning timber planking he could see the rough outline of a trapdoor. Hope bubbled up inside him and he fought back the urge to smile. He’d found a way to get the children out!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brass hook adorning the trapdoor grinned up at him and he eagerly pulled up, swinging the hatch open. Down below there was an underground tunnel. Jess didn't know where the tunnel led but it would at least get him and the rest of the children to safety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elated, he rushed out of the small room back to where the children and school teacher  we're huddled. the rafters above his head groaned ominously, spurring him in his endeavor to get the children into the tunnel. Frantically he called them. Ms. Harmen gathered the children up and pushed them to where Jess was waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess gripped the teachers arms and dropped her down in the dark hole. Stiffly, the young woman turned around taking the children he handed her, setting them carefully on the dirt floor, ,before reaching for the next child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rafters in the main room shifted again sending shivers of fear down Jess’ back. Finally only Mike waited to be helped down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess?” The boy timidly asked. “Are we going to get out of here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike was looking doubtfully at the dark hole making up the mysterious tunnel. Jess himself had reservations about where the tunnel led, but he wasn’t going to tell Mike that. The tunnel was their only chance and Mike needed to take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Mike. Once we get to the end of the tunnel we’ll be out. Now give me your hand.” Mike complied, allowing Jess to drop his precious cargo into the waiting arms of Ms. Harmen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all the children safely out of the reach of the fire Jess glanced around seeing if he missed anything. Close to where he stood by the trap door, his gaze caught on the stack of kindling at his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A still burning chair leg dropped to the floor and rolled to him. He’d worked so hard to fight off the memories haunting him every hour of the day. But the chair leg reminded him of another time… Jess’ pulse quickened as his mind slipped to the past.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jessie! Jessie help me!” Jess crawled on his hands and knees towards the frantic cries of his younger siblings batting away the burning wood raining down on him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Outside he could hear the taunts and hoots of the men in the yard as they watched his home burn down, with him and his family in it. His father’s prized plow horse screamed and kicked in the barn as the poor animals slowly burned to death. Jess’ hands curled into fists at the cruelty of the men standing in the yard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jessie where are you?!” A loud crash and scream followed the young voice’s cry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jess scrambled to the back room where the cry came from. Blood curdling screams filled his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Mr. Harper! Mr. Harper please!” A young woman yelled his name bringing him back to the present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulled from his daydream, Jess glanced around and remembered where he was. Ms. Harmen’s outstretched hand reminded him of his mission. Jess dropped into the tunnel entrance breathing away the painful shock radiating up his soles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way down the tunnel, I’ll follow from behind.” Ms. Harmen stared at him, a strange look on her face. “Quickly, we don’t have time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The curt words snapped like a whip in the enclosed area, but the pretty school teacher did as he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on children follow me. Your parents are waiting.” Ms. Harmen’s calm crooning spurred the children into action. Crowding together, they slowly walked into the tunnel holding each other for comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before the small troop left the hot flames and smoke behind, plunging into darkness.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The flames were finally dying down. Blackened boards were hanging akimbo from the collapsed frames, as if carelessly dropped by a giant. Men began manning the bucket line again trying to cool the glowing embers enough parents could find and bury their dead children. Steam and ash billowed up when the buckets of cold water were dumped on the scorching hot coals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a commotion around the side of the school tore attention away from the charred school. Mothers rushed in and swooped up smoky bundles of cloth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim! Aunt Daisy!” Daisy nearly fainted when Mike raced to them. “Slim!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears forgotten, Slim’s tall frame easily swept Mike off his feet and held him tightly. The tall man’s heavy heart was suddenly lighter now he knew Mike was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim…” Mike choked, squirming out of the crushing grip that held him. “...I can’t breathe-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, the vise crushing his ribs were released and Mike was gently set down at his guardians feet. Slim knelt down on the wet grass so he could be at Mike’s level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike, where’s Jess? Have you seen him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young boy eagerly pointed in the direction where he’d last seen the dark haired man. “He’s over there with Ms. Harmen and all the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim gently squeezed the boy’s shoulders, as if making sure he was really there. Then the tall rancher stood. “Alright, you stay here with Daisy, ya hear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy’s dirty brown head bobbed. Daisy swooped in with all the grace and love of a mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come along Mike, let’s get you cleaned up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah…Aunt Daisy!” Mike began his usual complaint, a wet cloth was run over his face and neck working to wash away the black streaks coating his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile tickled the edges of Slim’s mouth as he watched Mike complain about his impromptu bath. For a second, Slim felt like his life had finally been put right. He couldn’t have lived through the crushing grief when he found out Mike was inside the burning school, unreachable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall rancher straightened his hat and made a beeline for the growing crowd Mike had pointed to. It was about time he knew how the children got out in the first place. Then, he was going to make sure Mike and Jess were taken back to the ranch as far away from Laramie as possible. He’d make sure all members of his house slept safely under the roof of his home.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Red Tanners frowned when he saw Jess Harper walk around the charred building, big as life. How did he get out? He’d hidden the tunnel entrance well. What had gone wrong?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess was deathly afraid of fire, the kid had admitted it to him many times. When he first met the kid, Jess couldn’t even stand to watch a campfire burn without coming undone. How had he gotten himself under control so fast? He was certain the flames would freeze Jess long enough to stop him from getting out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunfighter stepped further back into the shadows like a wraith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boss wasn’t going to be happy...</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Jess!” The familiar voice brought the deputies head up. His partner was striding towards him, a smile on his face. Jess’ clothes were soot stained and smoky like the rest of the children, but he seemed alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim!” Jess edged around the grateful parents swarming him. “Slim, where’s Mike? Did he find you like I told him to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about Mike. Daisy’s over by the wagon giving the boy some attention as we speak. What happened to you? Mort’s been looking for you since the fire broke out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess hesitated to answer Slim’s questions. He didn’t have anything to hide, but he wasn’t sure he wanted his overprotective partner to know exactly what just happened before he was able to go after Red on his own. Red! Slim didn’t even know who the new ‘Hatch’ was. The deputies' blue eyes strayed to Mort, standing close to the wagon watching him with knowing eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t prove anything yet, but I think Hatch set the fire to draw me out.” Jess’ vision blurred and distorted, his wounds making themselves known. His good hand shot out to grab Slim to steady his swimming head. “Slim-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never got to finish his sentence before his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped into his partners arms.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It hurt to breathe. Jess opened his eyes blinking away the fuzzy shadows shrouding his vision. Finally, the world around him came into bleary focus. Soft sheets rustled over his skin letting him finally relax. He was back at the ranch, safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red! Jess pulled his aching body into a sitting position. Half way through he groaned in pain, his head swam dizzily. Strong hands gripped his arms firmly, pushing him back down on the blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move around like that! Daisy would have your head if you pulled out those stitches in your back and bled out all over the place.” Slim’s shadow fell over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike?” Jess asked wearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim patted his shoulder in a calming motion. The tall rancher pinned him with a look, warning him against getting out of bed, and settled back in the chair pulled close to his partner’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike’s asleep in the other room. He has a few burns on his arms and legs but nothing serious. Daisy got him cleaned up and sent off to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess rolled his head on the pillow. “The school children?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim smiled at his partner's question. For all the times Jess claimed he was a bad man, no bad man would ever take so much care to protect the lives of school children. He’d try to explain it to Jess later, but his stubborn partner would never see the good man he saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also fine. Some of them may have a cough for a day or two, but Doc wasn’t too concerned. Things could have been a lot worse.” Slim gave him a stern look, Jess shifted uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that look all too well. Jess sighed, he might as well hear what Slim had to say now and get it over with. HIs blonde partner leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jess, you know I was against this plan from the start. The reason I didn’t want you to take the badge was because I was scared. I was scared you’d get killed by the new ‘Hatch’. Jess, I hired you because I needed help running this place. If you got killed…” Slim broke off, brushing both hands down his face. “When Daisy and I got to Laramie the school was burning, Mort didn’t know where you were and-I didn’t know if you and Mike were alive or dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Jess understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only thing I could think was my parents dying and you dying… Jess I can’t handle burying another person I love. I was a kid when I was forced to say goodbye to my parents. I had Jonesy but I was still alone, left to raise Andy when I was just a kid myself. Jess, I don’t have any right to ask this, but don’t go back into Laramie to help Mort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim-” Jess started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Jess, just listen! Mort is a lawman. He’s been a lawman for a long time. It wasn’t right for him to ask you to put on the badge and gun again. Mort gets paid to wear the badge and protect this town, but you don’t. You have a right to do what you want to do, and I know it isn’t wearing a badge every second of the day. If you wanted to wear a badge you’d have done it already.” Blue eyes locked with blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how you feel.” Jess began. “But that ain’t fair to Mort and you know it! Yes, Mort is a lawman but he’s our friend, my friend. Mort would only ask for my help if he needed it, badly. You said I have the right to do what I want, then I need you to understand something. I have to help Mort. Mort needs my help, if I don’t, he’ll die and then they’ll come after me without Mort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim looked away, ashamed. He’d never be able to live with himself if Jess stood down and Mort got killed. He didn’t want that, his fear was talking. Jess’ eyes drooped, letting Slim know he didn’t have long before sleep claimed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you passed out, you said you thought Hatch drew you out. Can you tell me anything more about what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess yawned. “Hatch came to me behind the Livery Stable, and wanted me to leave Laramie. I told him no and walked off on him. I went inside the Livery then I saw the smoke a little later and people yelling the school was on fire. Hatch was watching the fire from an alley so I approached him. We were ready to draw down on one another when I heard Mike yelling for help.” Jess flinched as a stab of pain shot through him. He drew in rapid breaths, waiting for the pain to stop. “I turned my back to him, then someone shot me in the back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hatch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no proof he shot me.” Jess tried to reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t prove he didn’t, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess glanced up at the ceiling, searching for a way to best explain everything to his partner. Red couldn’t have shot him in the back. Red may be a lot of things, but he’d never be so heartless as to...No! There wasn’t a chance in the world Red could do something so...inhuman. Beside him, Slim watched the emotions cross his face. It was time he told Slim the whole truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim, there’s something I need to tell you.” Jess’ husky voice made Slim lean closer to his partner, eager to hear what he had to say. “Less than a year after my family's deaths I was in a small town near the Texas-Mexico border. My temper got the best of me and soon I’d started a bar room brawl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim looked confused as to why Jess was telling him all this now. His partner continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the men I was fighting was an outlaw, a killer. I’d bested him and his men so he drew his gun on me. He was about to murder me in cold blood when a stranger shot him. The stranger’s name was Red Tanners. Red, well, he was a character back then. He was a veteran gunfighter, people feared him. After the fight in the bar he took me under his wing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess pointed weakly to the gun slung over his bed post, near his feet. Obediently, Slim retrieved it. At his request Slim drew the weapon and studied it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red had strange ways how to teach me to use a gun but they worked. Maybe too well. Red taught me to fight, how to keep my back to the wall so I didn’t get shot, and how to tell when a man was bluffing. I rode with him for three years. He made me into a man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did Austin come into the picture?” Slim asked, referring to the young outlaw from Jess’ past, living as a lawman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Austin and I went separate ways before I joined up with Red. I suppose looking back now, all the characters I met on the road, taught me something I needed to stay alive. Funny, how that works…” He continued. “As I said I was with Red for three years. In those three years I was starting to get something of a reputation. Before I go any further you have to understand, Red is a good man. A very good man. A lot of gunfighters are cocky and greedy, but not Red. All he wanted was a place to settle down and put his life behind him so he could grow old in peace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark haired man in the bed shook his head ruefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that’s a problem with all gunfighters. We fight to put the gun on and then mourn the day when we realize we can’t take it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim felt the need to interrupt. “Why are you telling me this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s important. Please, let me finish.” Slim agreed. “Red and I were in lower Nebraska when our luck ran out. The Sheriff in the closest town ran us out, said he didn’t want no gunhawks anywhere near his town. Red and I decided to ride through the night, make sure we weren’t being followed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you?” Slim asked, forgetting his promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It was almost midnight when they ambushed us. I never got to see their faces, but they knew the area better than we did, that was plain to see. Red got hit bad. I tried to get to him, but they kept me pinned down. All I could do was watch and listen as he yelled for me. He yelled at me to come and help him.” Jess shook his dark head. “I failed. Finally, I suppose they thought they’d got what they came for and just ran off, didn’t even bother to finish me off or nothing. I managed to get to Red, but there wasn’t anything I could do for him. He died in my arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kerosene lamp hissed and flickered in the room, illuminating the far away look in the young gunfighters eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took Red back to the town, the Sheriff’d kicked us out of. The Sheriff took his body alright, suppose he thought he was being christian. I tried to stay but he wouldn’t allow me to. Used his sawed off shotgun to run me out of town without getting to bury my mentor...That was it, or so I thought. I always figured Red Tanners was dead until we got back from Yuma. Then I saw him, riding down the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash behind Slim’s eyes told Jess his partner had made the connection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red Tanners is the new ‘Hatch’.” Silence claimed the room and Jess waited for the inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim stood on shaky legs still holding the gun in his hand. Slims eyes widened as he looked at the stock. Throwing open the bedroom door, Jess listened to his partners booted footsteps stop at the fireplace and lift the fake overhang. The footsteps crossed the main room, coming back to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two guns were in Slim’s hands. One was the revolver taken from Jess’ gunbelt and the other was partially wrapped in oiled cloth. Jess knew what his partner would find in the fireplace. Instead of one gun there were two guns resting in the false crevice. His working rig and his customary gunfighting gun. A puzzled expression adorned his partner's face. All this time Slim had thought Jess only owned two guns, but there in his hands was proof he owned three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get this gun?” Slim raised the revolver covered in notches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Red’s. I took it from him after I thought he’d died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said Red was a good man. Why are there notches in the stock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess fought hard not to look away. ”They’re Red’s, but that doesn’t mean he was a bad man!” Slim threw the guns down on Jess’ bed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Jess sat up straighter. “Red put those notches there not to prove what he had done, but to prove he had a purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what purpose is that?! To prove he could kill? Murder?” Slim yelled at him, his voice echoing through the house waking Daisy and Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got this all wrong, Slim! Those notches aren’t kill counts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slim stopped dead, unsure of what Jess meant by that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The notches are how many lives Red has saved. Yes, he was paid to kill the people who made up those notches, but he didn’t kill them. Instead of killing them he let them live. Red chose to control the gun, rather than let the gun control him. Every notch is proof of how many times he could have killed, but didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you put his gun on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something you and Mort said to me. I control the gun, it doesn’t control me. It helped me remember what I was fighting for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how reckless you are!? You willingly pinned on a badge, went to Laramie and wore the gun of a man who’s being paid to kill you, and failed to tell Mort or me? Did he recognize you?” Slim exploded with the inevitable fury, fear and pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slim-” Jess tried to dodge the question, his partner was having none of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me the truth!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. He recognized me like I recognized him. And he wouldn’t just kill me! He approached me behind the Livery and begged me to leave Laramie. Slim trust me, he won’t kill me, he can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he still warned you if you didn’t leave he’d kill you didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess' silence at the ranchers question spoke volumes. Angrily, Slim strode to the door pushing past a wide eyed Mike and Daisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going!?” Jess yelled after his partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To find a place to cool down before I kill you!” The front door of the ranch house slammed, announcing Slim’s exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone, Jess blew out his cheeks, staring at the guns sitting on the bed. That didn’t go well.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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